The Misery of Vulom
by J.B Jimp
Summary: What does an ancient angry, power-hungry, bent-on-revenge, dragon priest (who lost his mask coincidentally) and a fearlessly brave (as well as absurdly heroic, and good looking) dragonborn have in common? Not much it turns out, but they're stuck together unfortunately and have to make the best of fate. This story is loosely based off Wyrmstooth, Falskaar, and Summerset Isle mods.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in the Skyrim universe, or anything else, this is purely a fan-made fiction for fun. Please Review and enjoy!**

Vulom couldn't remember the last time he had so much delightful anticipation. After centuries of waiting, his time was finally coming. His spirit which lay chained by spectral bonds inside the coffin wiggled in glee. He grinned as he sensed the last remnants of his bones being gathered from the castle. "Now...bring them to me, adventurer, and thou shalt have thy reward!" he intoned in an epic and disembodied voice. The archaic speech was mainly just for showmanship. Once the incredibly stupid adventurer returned with his bones, he would be able to break the chains, and rise up once more as Vulom the Master of all Dragonpriests. Vulom grinned evilly. As soon as he was risen, he would give the adventurer their reward: a quick and spectacular death. Then he would bring that stupid pathetic dragon that lived under the mountain of Wyrmstooth under his heel. Then he would travel to Skyrim and enslave the rest of the dragonpriests and dragons and place them under his will. It would be easy, for he was the only dragonpriest that knew the most ancient and incredibly powerful master level spells like firestorm and blizzard, they would bow to him or die incredibly quickly. Vulom smirked again as he sensed the adventurer rapidly coming his way, the promise of the treasure no doubt speeding them along. He yawned, wondering briefly which spell to test out first.

Vulom heard the steady stamp of feet outside his coffin, and then the adventurer tossed his bones rudely down upon top the coffin. "HEY, easy there," he called wrathfully "It IS bad manners to just throw someone's bones down on the ground." A muffled curse, and then a voice called out contritely "Sorry!" the muffled voice continued "Sooooo….what do I do now?" Vulom sighed, well it appeared the adventurer wasn't too bright, this wasn't going to be much fun after all. "You have to put my bones inside my coffin you imbecile, I can't give you my reward until you deliver them into the coffin, I'm quite sure I already made this clear numerous times before." He heard a guilty shuffling, then the muffled voice "...Sorry, I just have a lot of things to do and I forgot, give me a sec."

Vulom heard a groan, then the coffin lid began to slide off. A face, too dark to be seen in the shadows, leaned over the coffin as the figure gently placed the bones inside the coffin. Then the figure stood back and waited. 

Vulom grinned, feeling his power returning. Ah yes, this was going to be highly enjoyable. He felt the energy swirling around him, bluish light began to explode from within the coffin as the ancient magic worked on resurrecting his bones and knit his spirit to them. Vulom felt an extra good show was in order for the adventurer to witness such an event as his raising, so he caused extra creepy shadows to dance along the cave walls, and the old braziers to flare to life with blue and green fire. A few ghosts flitted around fitfully. Dramatically his skeleton (clad in an ancient shredded dragon priest outfit thanks to those stupid skeevers) rose up from the coffin, floating in air. Vulom lifted his hand towards a crack in the cave wall opposite of him, and with a burst of rocks, a large ornate staff flew out and into his hands, gleaming as he caught it. He briefly checked the soul counter before turning imposingly towards the adventurer who had been standing there this whole time. 

Vulom stared at the adventurer with a little bit of disgust. He couldn't see their face, as it was shrouded in some sort of hood that looked like it belonged to the Thieves Guild, and the rest of the adventurers body was covered in mismatching armor: plate-body made of glass, with iron plate-legs, ebony bracers, and leather boots. Vulom sensed a few crappy enchantments as well; a pitiful +7% magical resistance spell adorned the boots as if the adventurer had tried to personally enchant them. Vulom snorted barely holding back his laughter.

"Well?" The adventurer impatiently stomped their foot. "I'd like my reward now please, it wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to retrieve old moldy bones...I had to rescue your skull from some nasty vampires that were using it for a weird chalice. Ugh." The adventurer shuddered in disgust. Vulom glared, annoyed. He didn't want to think about the travesty that the rest of his bones had underwent throughout the ages. He remembered the last time he had been revived he discovered some wizened old altmer mage trying to resurrect just his hand in order to have it clean his abode like a common household maid. That mage had very quickly (and permanently) learned his error after Vulom choked him, and then resurrected him to be his butler for a few hundred years until he fell afoul of that band of raiding falmer while searching for some nightshade. 

Vulom sighed then looked down at the adventurer before him. "YOU HAVE DONE WELL" he boomed in his loudest voice, "NOW I SHALL…" 

"STOP YELLING AT ME I CAN HEAR YOU JUST FINE" the adventurer yelled angrily, interrupting Vulom. "And by the divines, get to the point already, I'm sick of this creepy cave, I'm cold and wet, and I'm tired of talking to...weird dead things." 

Vulom was gobsmacked. His skeleton jaw hung open. How dare this pitiful adventurer push him, the great Vulom, he was the great and terribly awesome dragon priest! Had they any clue as to just how powerful and might he was? Apparently not, but this scrawny piece of human flesh was just about to find out. Vulom collected himself and then very calmly faced the adventurer, a small smile on what was left of his face.

"Very well, here's your reward...a quick death." The adventurer stiffened, then spoke "Hey that's not a rewa…" Vulom conjured up an incinerate spell in his free hand and lobbed it while simultaneously casting firestorm around him. The adventurer disappeared as they were flung roughly backwards...through the cave wall. A crater sized hole was left behind, as the whole cave shook and some rocks crumbled down. Vulom grinned, oh he still had it. He couldn't wait to see the look on Hevnoraak's smug face when he returned to Skyrim and beat him into the ground with his magic.

A sudden stirring, and much groaning and cursing came from the hole in the wall. Vulom glanced over mildly surprised. He hadn't expected the human to survive. Oh well he would just have to fix that. Vulom floated closer to the hole and peered inside. He couldn't really see far in, as it was dark, but he was able to make out a figure at least 50 feet inside the hole. He grinned evilly.

Vulom gathered his magika, and then rapid fired off 17 incinerate spells and twice as many fireballs into the hole. Blowing the smoke off his skeletal fingers, he turned away and began to think about his plan for dealing with the dragon. He thought about walking down the long labyrinth of caves until he reached the dragon, who would be a fear dribbling idiot by then, or he could just teleport there and combust him. The teleport option sounded better, plus he didn't really feel like having the hordes of dragur fawning over him. The dragur deathlords could really go over the top sometimes in their attempt to impress him with their strength. Also they were touchy as hell. As in they hated being touched. Which is why it was frustrating traversing the crypt dungeons sometimes because as soon as all the deathlords knew he was there, they came running. And then they would start brandishing their weapons, showing off their limited power, and then start killing each other because one of them had oh so "accidentally" bumped into another deathlord and started them all on a rampage against each other trying to impress him. Vulom usually had to keep them separated, unless there was a common enemy they could kill. 

Vulom suddenly felt himself hurled forward as he barely managed to avoid being smashed into the wall, the echos of dragon language still in the air. Vulom turned around and then winced at the sight. 

A very angry woman stood in the archway, her hood completely seared off revealing her blonde hair and slightly sooty face. Vulom wasn't sure how her hair hadn't been completely burned off (in fact it wasn't even touched), but her eyebrows however were completely singed off. Her brown eyes stormily gazed across the space at him. Her armor hadn't fared much better than her hood, and while still covering her, had clearly melted and fused itself together in a mismatch of colored ore. Vulom would have laughed at the sight if it wasn't for the very worrying fact that she was still alive and looking quite healthy and very angry even after everything he had thrown at her. 

Before Vulom could act or say anything in his defense, the woman moved. Gripping her hands together tightly, she suddenly shot a large continuous blast of concentrated lightning. Vulom just barely dodged out of the way as the entire cave wall where he had been standing lit up with powerful magic. " _Yikes"_ Vulom thought. He quickly casted a raise dead spell, causing several dragur deathlords to raise up to buy him some time. He then teleported to the other side of the room as the deathlords charged the woman. " _FEIM ZIL GRON_ " the woman roared, and then Vulom sensed what she was going to do and tried to catch the semi-stupid deathlords attention. "Mov.." He was interrupted by a large fiery blast as the deathlords were consumed by an explosive firestorm. Just great. Of course this dragon speaking woman would just _happen_ to know master level spells as well. This was turning into one of Vaermina's nightmares. Vulom lobbed a thunderbolt, and incinerate spell after incinerate spell and teleported rapidly around the room. The woman retaliated by casting particularly strong spells at him that shook the cave everytime they hit the wall. Vulom winced. At this rate the cave was likely going to collapse before he killed her. He was going to have to thrall her after she was dead, she would be a good assistant for him. 

Vulom came out of his teleport and suddenly tripped over the pile of extra dead deathlords (say that 5 times fast) landing unceremoniously on his face, his staff clattered out of his hand. He glanced over his shoulder and was met to the face with a Lightning Storm spell. Vulom shrieked in agony as his bones began to disintegrate under the powerful spell. He glanced at the adventurer who was a complete picture of heroic beauty; her blond hair hanging down from her sooty face and her completely destroyed armor fused around her like some drunk daedra blacksmith had come up with a new design. Vulom cursed to himself as a familiar blackness of the void closed around him, but not before sticking his spectral tongue out at the adventurer.


	2. Chapter 2

Vulom felt a tug on his spirit, and suddenly a roaring sound filled his ears. His vision blurred and slowly began to sharpen. The familiar blue lights that accompanied his resurrection began to fade and he took in the stone path that was stretched out into the far distance across the grassy highlands of what looked like Whiterun. Vulom stretched himself and yawned and then floated forward and fell promptly on his face.

"AAUGH" he screamed, then stopped quickly when he realized his voice sounded a bit different, a bit more hoarse and deep. He started to push himself up off the ground and then caught a glimpse of his very human fleshy hands. He started screaming again.

"BY THE NINE, WHERE AM I? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BEAUTIFUL SKELETON HANDS? WHA.."

"Oh shut up already, I'm beginning to regret having used this thing." a voice interrupted him crossly.

Vulom quickly twirled around to the sound of the familiar voice and almost face planted again.

There, sitting calmly (with a slightly annoyed expression), as if nothing had ever happened between them, the woman he had fought in the cave regarded him with disdain. Her armor was still fused weirdly on her body from his fireballs (Vulom inwardly smirked) and there was a smudge of soot on her left cheek that had somehow escaped her notice. Her eyebrows were unfortunately growing back in already, although Vulom felt he could easily remedy this. Just then though, his body was wracked in a series of sneezes, which to his horror, he couldn't control.

"AAACHOO!" Vulom felt something dripping disgustingly from his nose, so he used the back of his horrid hand to wipe it off. Ugh. This was even worse than that time when he had encountered the Afflicted who would vomit that nasty green goo poison. It had taken seconds to magic the stuff off him (and even shorter to turn the Afflicted to dust particles) but he still _hated_ the feeling of drippy goo stuff on his bones. Why Peryite did the things he did, Vulom would never know. Vulom snapped his meaty fingers and a small spark lit up and hovered above his hand. At least his magic worked.

"Hey.." a voice snapped him out of his reverie. "I need something; can you teach me that teleport spell you know?"

Vulom glared at the woman, then thought for a second.

"I've got a better idea, how about I teach you how to fry things?" He grinned as he intensified the flame in his hand and then tried throwing it at the woman. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Vulom gnashed his teeth in frustration and then bit his tongue and howled in anger. The woman giggled then spoke.

"You can't harm me stupid, I summoned you with your staff." she pointed at the ornate staff that rested next to her against a rock. "Although I'm not sure why it summoned you in that bandit's body that I just killed. That was kinda weird."

Vulom looked at himself in growing horror. "Its because you disintegrated my bones you horrible wench!" he shrieked, his voice getting more high pitched. "Unsummon me this instant!"

The woman irritably flicked the staff at Vulom, but nothing happened. Her eyes widened as she frowned. "Oooh. You're like a thrall now or something. I can't unsummon you." she shrugged. "Guess you'll just have to follow me around or something."

Vulom looked absolutely miserable. This was not how things were suppose to turn out for him upon his return to Skyrim. If he ever ran into another dragon priest this would be exceedingly shameful. A thrall to common adventurer, and a woman no less! What kind of twisted fate was this? He glumly turned towards the woman.

"What..is your name?" he asked.

"Uh..everyone calls me Dovahkiin. Or Dragonborn. You can call me that!" she smiles brightly. "What about your name?"

Vulom drew himself up a bit regally pausing a second for effect. "Vulom the Dragonpriest. I am the most powerful of them all."

The dragonborn's face wrinkles in thought for a moment. "Vulom...weird I've never even heard of a dragonpriest named Vulom before. I've heard of Hevnoraak.."

Vulom's temper gets the better of him. Before she can speak another word he turns around and spots a giant tree tree out in the middle of the grasslands alone. He begins hurling fireballs and lightning bolts with alarming alacrity, punctuating each word with a spell. "HOW...DO...YOU...NOT...KNOW ME!" he paused for a breath of air which was something he hadn't needed to do for a looong long time. "HEVNORAAK IS A SCAM!" Vulom screamed with as bits of spittle flew from his mouth and a final meteor flying out of his hands and demolishing the tree. The dragonborn looks unimpressed.

"You don't even have a mask, I didn't even know you were a dragon priest." she says calmly giving him a strange look. "Where's your mask at?"

Vulom turns a few shades purple and sputters. "None of your business...besides I don't _need_ a mask to be powerful, I mean look what I did to your armor. If I hadn't tripped over those stupid _STUPID_ deathlords, you would be MY thrall right now!"

Vulom's mask had been lost a several centuries back. He hated to admit it, but it had happened in Kagrenzel. Vokun and him had been dropping things through the hole at the top of the mountain for fun. The falmer down below were pretty funny watching them slosh around as things fell down. They of course couldn't see the objects, but every time one landed, they would scurry over to it and start stabbing. Vokun had just thrown a mammoth cheese wheel into the whole, and they watched as it actually landed on a unlucky falmer and killed it. Vulom had laughed so hard that his mask fell off and dropped like a stone into the hole to both of their horrified gazes. Despite using extensive magic, Vulom wasn't able to find it, and suspected it had shattered as he had heard a distinctly shattering-like sound. Vokun never let him live it down, much to his disgusted chargain.

The dragonborn narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah about that...can you like teach me the teleport spell so we can teleport to a town and I can get this twisted hunk of metal off me faster. I've had to go to the bathroom in it, and you have no idea how disgusting that is!" she moaned. "Ugh, I could shower for a few days straight after this."

"I refuse." Vulom crossed his arms like a petulant child. The dragonborn rolled her eyes. "You know, I don't know how this magic staff works, but I suspect you're probably going to be hungry. It's a few days still to Whiterun, and I don't have enough supplies to last us both till then. Sooo that teleport spell would be super useful to us both." She continued carefully as if explaining something complicated to an orc. "I have the map of where we need to go and money, so teach me, or teleport me, and we can both enjoy a hot meal and bath." She finished expectantly, and smiled a giant ridiculous smile at him.

Vulom thought for a long moment, tapping his forehead. "um...no. Still no."

They bickered back and forth for a few hours while walking before reaching a compromise. Vulom wasn't about to teach her the spell, but he decided he would teleport them both instead. He was getting hungry, and he still wasn't sure about all the things this fleshy body could do, but he realized he would unfortunately have to sustain it.

"You HAVE to describe to me exactly what's around the spot we are teleporting to and where on the map." he said animatedly. "Otherwise we might end up in a rock or something else unpleasant."

"Right of course, of course." she said hurriedly, as if afraid he was going to change his mind. She described a flat barren place just outside the city gate. Vulom stood up and magika crackled in his hands and then began chanting dramatically. " _Manos batori holo_ …"

"Oh get a move on it and just teleport already!" said the dragonborn crossly. Vulom glared at her. It was true, he didn't need the incantation, it was really just for fun to scare mortals with. Unfortunately this mortal knew enough magic to know it was a sham which of course ruined his fun. Even more unfortunately _he_ was a mortal now. Vulom sighed wondering again for the hundredth time how he deserved this and cast the teleport spell. A blinding flash of light enveloped them both and then they both disappeared much to the disgruntlement of a nearby mudcrab.

 **A/N**

 **After much consideration, I will be re-editing chapters 1 and 2 and changing the story tense to first person for Vulom. The reason for this is simple: I think it will flow much better from my head because that's how I keep thinking about the story. If anyone has ever read the "Bartimaeus Trilogy" by Jonathan Stroud...that is exactly the type of format I'm trying to emulate with this story. As for updates, I'm hoping to have them become weekly. I've been busy writing more chapters so I have a 'bank' of chapters which I can continue to release weekly. I have lots more in store for poor Vulom and the 'dragonborn'.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 **Recently started updating this again, and unfortunately I forgot about the 90 day doc limit. I may still go back and re-edit chapters 1 and 2 into more of Vulom's POV, but from here on out it will definitely be from his point of view only. Please enjoy and sorry for such a long hiatus! Vulom has a tendency to ramble in his thoughts. For now I'm debating whether to include them as footnotes at the bottom of the page or not, currently they are simply included in the body.**

 **Edited for mistakes, if you notice any, please let me know!**

 **Disclaimer, I do not own Bethesda's works, this is a fan-made fiction purely for fun.**

About a split second before we teleported I knew I had made a small mistake…I hadn't been concentrating on the barren area outside the city, but rather started thinking ABOUT the city itself. The insane maniacal side of me wondered if I had inadvertently done it on purpose while the strangely and newly humanish-sorta side was inwardly screaming wildly with a rather new emotion…fear.

Before my 5 minute old summoned life could flash before my eyes, we arrived at our destination, with me landing on a rather hard surface, and the dragonborn landing on top of me. Groaning I tried to sit up and ignore whatever dull object that was poking into what I assume was my kidney. At least I hadn't teleported _into_ the object.

We had arrived in Whiterun. To be precise, we had arrived in Whiterun on top of a grinding stone at the city entrance. Some horrified wench (probably the owner) was currently looking at me with a scandalized gaze. Meanwhile, two startled guards were just gathering their wits and getting ready to stalk on over, no doubt to give us a lecture. I turned my gaze towards my lap where I suddenly realized why the nearby prude was giving me such a shocked look.

Now see here, being the mighty dragonpriest that I am, doesn't mean I'm a total megalomaniac with no social graces. I mean, when I _used to be alive_ before I had girls fawning over me in droves. It always drove Hevnoraak slightly mad to see me get the women which is why I'm pretty sure he's the one who arranged for that scantily clad dark brotherhood lass to attempt her poison-lips act on me that one night; unfortunately for her I already had a high resistance to poison due to dabbling in vampirism; unfortunately for me I lost a bit of my pride that night when I was kicked between the legs in her escape routine.

And well, after I died I didn't have any real need for erm 'desires' but that doesn't mean I forgot by any means contextual social clues. You just didn't _do_ certain things in public, and I suppose having a very much alive (however melted and sooty) public figure of the people like oh the dragonborn casually straddling your lap in a fashion that would make even a daedra god blush...well it would make anyone pause in their day to day activities.

Naturally, being the gentle-priest I was, I immediately without any thought or concern, violently shoved the dragonborn off my lap onto the ground and then stood up trying not to wince the entire time. It was about this time, only 5 and a half minutes into my new life that I realized my second mistake I made.

No _actually_ the mistake that that freaking, interfering, pile of scrap metal dragonborn had made on my unwilling behalf.

As I leapt to my feet, both guards ripped their swords out of their belts as if Mehrunes himself had come back from Oblivion. The lady behind me started shrieking in unholy terror. Finally I thought, I'm getting the attention and glory I deserve. And then it dawned on me.

Earlier in my newly found life, I remember Dragonborn commenting about me coming back in a dead bandit's recently occupied body, and how weird it was blah blah. The comment wasn't inherently important until now, when I found myself teleported straight into the midst of Talos fearing goody two-shoe Nords and my current predicament.

Naturally, being the quick calm thinker I was in this frail mortal frame, I did what any self-preserving dragonpriest would do and turned smoothly towards the object of my predicament and primary contempt and started screaming at her.

"WHY IN OBLIVION DID YOU PUT ME IN THIS..mmphh!"

I was quickly and somehow silenced (I detected muffilato charm, only must have been reworked for the tongue) by the dragonborn, as she rose as gracefully as a clump of fused, twisted armor can, to her feet. She quickly held out her hands, placating the guards.

"He's with me, he's my thrall, and he _won't_ hurt anyone." The last remark was directed at me while I fumed silently. The dragonborn turned to the still scandalized smithy standing behind me.

"Adrianne, can you give me a hand with this armor. I really need to get it off." The dragonborn grimaced in disgust as she flicked a stray blond hair from her eye. I watched as the smithy girl's eyes widened.

"Of course, Dragonborn, anything for you. Here, come over to the forge here and I'll have a look."

Adrianne pulled her hammer out, while I stiffly moved out of the way of the dragonborn. I couldn't help but smirk once again as I saw my previous life handiwork. Which made me remember my previous plans of world dominance; of course they would have to be put on hold until I figured how to get rid of this body without consigning my spirit to the void.

In fact, I had no idea how thrall summoning actually worked from my end of things, and so I was feeling a might protective of my fleshy parts at this moment. Following the dragonborn around for a while might not be a bad idea to learn a spell or two, and scope out my future kingdom. Maybe even get a little payback at some of the other dragonpriests who wouldn't be able to tell it was me if I was lucky.

After Adrianne had been hammering for several minutes, the dragonborns armor finally started to come apart. Unfortunately it wasn't the only thing.

"What in the name of Alduin is that stench?" I shrieked as an odor most foul emanated from the dragonborn. She turned and gave me a nasty look, eyes narrowing.

"That…was your fault. I had to pee somewhere after trudging all that distance." She glared at me a moment longer, then turned away. "I'm going to the Inn, going to sleep for two days and shower and pee in a proper loo. Try and stay out of trouble, please." And with that, the dragonborn began stomping off out of my eyesight.

"Hey wait!" I stumbled a bit on my feet, still used to floating. "What about me? What am I supposed to do?!" At that moment my stomach decided to make a hideous rumbling sound and I looked down horrified. The dragonborn glanced back at me, and sighed in frustration.

"Come along, I'll feed you and you're going to stay at the Inn too." She examined me critically. "I guess we need to get you some proper robes too, so you don't look like a weirdo."

I sputtered angrily, ignoring my hunger pains for a moment in pure loathing. "I am NOT some weirdo..I'm Vul.."

The dragonborn cut me off crossly, motioning me to follow. "Not a word more or I'll silence you again." Then she giggled. "Shutup or I'll shut you up…yeah I definitely need some sleep." She began purposefully walking away, ignoring the dirty looks directed her way as her stench hit nearby unfortunate travelers.

I just stared for a moment, wondering what in Oblivion I had gotten myself in. Then with a shrug, I followed after.


	4. Chapter 4

I stumbled into the Bannered Mare behind the dragonborn, my stomach rumbling loudly. As I stood on the doorstep, I swept my gaze around the crowded Inn.

Off to the right, a tired looking woman slapped beers onto the counter towards eager drunk hands. A few loud drunks sat in the far corner, and a swotty-nosed bard sat near the fire in the middle with two women on either side of him giggling. I snorted through my nose. Humans.

If any of these dithering idiots knew the type of power I commanded or even a fraction of who I was, I'd have the Inn emptied in less than a few seconds. The dragonborn seemed to sense my mood however, as she turned my way and gave me a warning glance before walking up to the bar counter, her stench keeping even the most handsy of drunks from even looking her way.

The dragonborn withdrew a few gold coins and slapped them on the counter. "Two rooms please, two hot meals, and a tub of hot water." The innkeeper nodded wordlessly, and handed the dragonborn two keys from beneath the counter, then waved us off. The dragonborn turned towards me and handed out a key.

"Here's your key; they will deliver food shortly. Lastly, don't even think of bothering me until tomorrow morning." She grimaced in thought. "We can discuss what your thralldom means then, and lay down a few rules. As for now, I don't care what you do, just _don't_ kill anyone, and _do not_ cause trouble in town." She paused for a moment, her brown eyes blinking with tiredness as if she was going to say more, but then turned and disappeared upstairs without waiting for my reply.

I sighed, and started to follow her up where I guessed would likely be several more rooms. I simply didn't want company at the moment, in fact, frankly, I wished the inn was full of draugr at the moment, as it would be far more amusing then this nordish lot of loudmouths. The inn was noisy, in fact it seemed to have gotten noisier. I glanced over to the corner and noticed that an orc had gotten into a brawl. Typical.

As I started to leave the room, a hand shot out and grabbed me uncomfortably close towards the crotch. I froze and turned my head.

What met my sight was a, well, very drunk cyrodiil woman (I could only guess) with a large tankard in her other hand. Her blond hair was braided into two long pig-tails, her blue eyes were alight with a conspiritorial expression that I didn't want any part of, and her face was red from drinking. She leaned in towards me, pulling me closer.

"I like strawberries." She whispered, grinning from ear to ear.

At that moment I hated the dragonborn more then ever. It seemed this thrall business was serious, as I felt the dragonborns earlier command being forced upon me. I wanted nothing more than to light the blond-haired ditz on fire, and then torch the rest of the Inn. I gritted my teeth impatiently as she kept her unfaltering drunk gaze on me as if expecting some reply. I nearly choked.

"That's...that's real nice." I attempted to grin but I'm sure it came out more as a frown. For Oblivion knows why however, it encouraged her to speak again.

"Oh, have you seen it? Have you seen my bottle?" She giggled loudly, her hand still clutched tightly on my leggings dangerously high.

"No...I havn't." I growled a little too loudly. A nearby patron glanced my way nervously.

"Oi, can you help me find it? You look like a nice strapping lad." She grinned fondly and then her hand shot a little higher and she smacked me lightly.

I could feel waves of the invisible dragonborn's magic washing over me and forcing down my deadly magic as I outstretched my hand towards this insipid woman. My hands that once could inflict death in seconds upon hundreds at a time were held in check by a stupid bond. Lowering my hand, I thought quickly. If I couldn't kill her...maybe...I grinned evilly, a sudden thought occurring.

About half an hour later I swiftly left the room after thoroughly relishing what I had accomplished. I'm positive no one once noticed the confused blond chick in the corner with a large tankard of ale strapped over her mouth. Come to think of it, I'm still not sure _she_ even fully realized what had happened. I smiled to myself as I walked upstairs and let myself into a room and closed the door.

The room was dark and smelled faintly. I frowned, but didn't notice anything amiss. I didn't see the hot meal I was promised, and my stomach gurgled unpleasantly but I didn't feel up to returning downstairs and being groped again by a batty blond chick. Standing for a moment, I really tried to give the thrall issue some thought.

I had had a few thralls in my lifetime, both while living and while undead. The most useful thing about thralldom magic, was the ability to summon the thrall at any point or moment in time immediately to the caster's side. I had discovered this magic by accident when I had been annoyed with one of my thralls, and blasted him off a cliff one time in my anger so that he would be able to contemplate my displeasure over the next several seconds until his demise. But I realized right after I had blasted the poor sod off, that I realized I still needed some information from him regarding some research. The next instant he was (to both his and my surprise) standing shaking next to me and urinating badly. I had been so interested in the fact that I was able to recall him that I spent the next 2 hours repeatedly pushing him off the cliff and then recalling him before he smashed to the ground. He was a nervous wreck by the time I was done, but I had discovered something useful. And it was great for future punishments and boredom.

Unfortunately it really didn't help me at the moment, other than having the knowledge that the dragonborn could do something similar if she had half a brain. Fortunately that didn't seem likely; the dragonborn appeared to be one of those nobler-than thou types that traipsed around the woods saving damsels and fixing broken carts. The only alarming factor about her was her temper.

I sighed, feeling a wave of what must be exhaustion passing over my frame. I didn't realize thralls still got tired; I would have to wrestle with my significantly large problems in the morning, for now I needed to keep this fleshy frame alive and rested.

Having suitable made up my mind, I walked toward the dark bed in the corner and flopped ungracefully onto the bed.

My expectations for tonight were to have at least a solid 8 hours or so of uninterrupted sleep and then wake up in the morning and figure out my master plan for world domination.

What I didn't expect was to land full onto the sleeping form of the dragonborn.


End file.
